


Speak

by Slate_Tablet



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: How Do I Tag, Muteness, Panic Attacks, wilbursoot - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slate_Tablet/pseuds/Slate_Tablet
Summary: A request by Bonkcake! I personally had fun with this one; Tommy hurt/fluff is always a ball to write.Tommy was being too loud, and pisses off the wrong person.TW for Panic attacks.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 491





	Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonkcake](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bonkcake).



"God, Tommy. You just don't shut up, do you?" George's voice was brimming with annoyance as the kid followed him around, pressing all his buttons. Taken aback by the harsh comment, the addressed player hesitated to respond, picking his words carefully to not piss off the man in front of him. "Oh, you know, people usually seem to enjoy my voice. Didn't think you would be-" He started, before being interrupted quickly.

"No! No, I meant that as in, _stop fucking talking_!" George hissed, turning around to face the teen. "As in, _leave me alone_! I am far from in the mood for this, Tommy."

Hearing the player swear was off-putting, let alone George swearing at _him_. Tommy had never been cussed out by the cool-headed man, and it pissed him off more than anything. Talking was a form of escape for him, a way to escape his own thoughts. Who was George to tell him to stop speaking?

The Brit whirled around, stalking off to the forest surrounding spawn, anger evident in his footsteps. Tommy followed after him more slowly, searching for a retort to throw at the older man. They walked a fair distance before Tommy opened his mouth angrily, "You think everything revolves around you, don't y-" He began loudly, thrown off and ending his sentence shortly once more when George turned and stopped him, catching his shoulder in a bruising grip.

Tommy was frightened by the dark, menacing fury in his eyes, and his hands shot up quickly in an attempt to get the hand off of him. "I had this as a joke tommy. But you don't know when to stop and it is going to be the damn death of you." As he spoke, his free hand curled around an iron object, glinting in the sun and catching the younger's worried eye. There was no way... Was that a fucking-

"Fuck you! Get off of me!" Tommy growled, avoiding the muzzle George was trying to force on his face. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds being labored grunts as the teen tried to get George off of him, almost matching the anger of the other. It was a long fight before George was able to snap the muzzle in place behind his head, releasing his rough grip and panting at the exertion. Tommy scratched at the iron furiously to dislodge it from his face and tried to open his mouth to retort, before a wave of panic his him and he realized he couldn't. The bird was shot at the older man quickly, and George turned away, muttering beneath his breath. "By the time you get that off, I will be long gone."

Tommy didn't bother himself to watch George disappear behind a tree, favoring pulling at the cold iron lying oppressively against his face. It refused to budge, and the teen tensed in worry, yanking at the strap that was too tight on his ears, trying to curse from the pain but unable to move his jaw. A few minutes of trying to loosen the strap was all it took for Tommy's hand to begin to quiver, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes and threatening to escape. The inability to speak his mind left him feeling useless; and all it had taken was the iron trapping him.

Blind with panic, he stumbled back and tripped, shoulder slamming into a tree and sending a searing pain throughout his body. The tears finally left his eyes, streaming down his face and dripping onto his shirt. Tommy gave up trying to pull the muzzle and just sat there and gripped it, knuckles turning white and fingers straining as his panic attack peaked. The teen's arms quivered violently, the strength that had enabled him to hold his own against the others on the server evaporating instantly. Leaning against the tree to ground himself and arms moving to hugs his knees, Tommy sat like that for what felt to be hours. Just him, and the constricting thoughts threatening to ruin everything.

Tommy was so caught in his thoughts that when a hand rested on his shoulder, he jolted, although keeping his head and muzzle buried between his legs. Slowly but surely he made out someone's voice, a comforting tone that soothed his thoughts.

"..ommy? Tommy, it's me, you can relax." Who was it again? The voice was so familiar that it nagged at his brain, pushing intrusive thoughts away. Lifting his head only slightly, Tommy found who had their hand on his shoulder. "Tubbo?' He tried to speak, tensing at the ragged reminder of the iron settled on his jaw. Humiliation at being seen so weak filled him, as the teen wiped his tears away quickly and raised his head.

Tubbo blinked in surprise at the muzzle, having wondered why his friend was not speaking. His own hands shook a bit as he reached behind Tommy's head, fumbling a bit but eventually undoing this clip and flicking away the iron piece. A reddish-purple mark stretched along the teen's head where the iron had rested too snugly, bound to bruise in time.

Tommy reached for his cheeks and spoke quickly, "Oh thank god, holy shit..." Relief rushed through him, muscles relaxing at finally being able to speak. Quivering arms wrapped around Tubbo tightly, as Tommy released shaky breaths. Tubbo was shocked at the act; he had never seen the other hug anyone from the server, or in general. Tommy noticed Wilbur standing closely nearby, having carefully picked up the muzzle and was inspecting it angrily.

"Tommy, who was it? Who the hell made this?" He growled, tossing it back onto the ground in disgust and looking to the teen expectantly, slowly pulling out his sword. Tommy swallowed and pulled away from Tubbo, rubbing his jaw to soothe the bruises. "G-George. George did. God, I can speak..." He murmured, setting his palms to the ground slowly. Wilbur cursed and stalked off into the woods, his grip tight on the sword's handle.

The two remaining teens sat quietly for a second, before Tommy broke the silence. "Thank you Tubbo, sorry to look so weak like that." He mumbled, glancing sideways at the other uncertainly. Tubbo blinked in surprise and smiled. "Don't worry, we all have our weak spots sometimes. It was only me and Wilbur, and we won't tell a soul." He pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand to the other. "Let's head back, it's been a long day huh?"

Tommy accepted it graciously, a smile hidden on his face. How could he ever ask for a better friend?


End file.
